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Anna glances at me, and I nod encouragingly. “She’ll hold Connor sometimes now,” Anna says softly. “For a few minutes. She’s... learning to be gentle.”

The memory of the first time I saw Mads hold our son hits me like a freight train—the way her hands shook, the wonder and terror in her eyes, and the careful way she cradled him like he was made of glass.

“That’s significant progress,” Dr. Ezra observes.

“She loves him,” Anna says simply. “Both of us do. Completely.”

Connor chooses that moment to let out an impressive burp, and we all laugh.

“Good lad,” I murmur, pressing another kiss to his head.

Dr. Ezra glances at his notes. “Anna, you mentioned last time that you’ve been reconnecting with your brother, Ethan. How has that been?”

Anna’s expression grows thoughtful. “Complicated. Good, but complicated. He’s thinking about moving closer, which is...” She trails off.

“Scary?” Dr. Ezra supplies.

“Yeah. But also good. He’s the only one who remembers our childhood. The only family I have left.”

I feel a flicker of something—not jealousyexactly, but something protective and territorial. “That’s not true,” I say gently. “You have me and Connor now.”

Anna turns to smile at me, and the love in her eyes nearly stops my heart. “I know. And I love our family more than anything. But it’s also good to connect to this piece of my past. To not be afraid of those memories anymore.”

“Mads especially feels connected to him,” Anna continues. “And I’m starting to recall more memories too, of when we were together as kids.”

“Do those memories scare you?” Dr. Ezra asks.

Anna considers this, absently swaying slightly as Connor starts to fuss again. “Sometimes. But I’m trying to be less afraid of everything. Mads is helping with that.”

“How so?”

“She reminds me that being scared doesn’t mean being weak,” Anna says. “And that I can survive being scared. I’ve done it before.”

I reach over to take Connor when he gets a little more fussy, settling him against my chest where he immediately calms. “She’s the strongest person I know,” I say fiercely. “Both of them are.”

“Even when I’m falling apart?” Anna asks, and there’s something vulnerable in her voice.

“Especially then,” I say, meeting her eyes. “Because you fall apart and then you put yourself back together, every time. That’s not weakness, love. That’s fucking heroic.”

“Language,” Anna murmurs again, but she’s smiling through tears she’s trying not to shed.

We’ve been trying to talk more like this even when it’s just the two of us, but Dr. Ezra always prods at things that bring out our deepest feelings and fears. I always feel ten times closer to her after our sessions, like there are finally no more secrets between us. It’s difficult for me to use words like this. I’ve been far more used to expressing my excess emotional energy—not that I knew that was what I was doing at the time—through physical exertion, by working out hard and fucking even harder. This is all… new still.

Dr. Ezra makes another note. “Domhnall, how do you cope when Anna is struggling? What’s different now from how you used to handle stress?”

The question makes me shift slightly in my chair. This is still hard territory for me. “I talk about it more,” I admit reluctantly. “Usually to Anna, but sometimes to Marcus or Caleb. I don’t just... shut down and go dark like I used to.”

“That must be difficult for you.”

“Still prefer a good workout to a heart-to-heart,” I say with a rueful grin. “But Anna needs me to use my words, so I’m learning.”

Anna reaches over to squeeze my hand. “He’s getting better at it. And I’m getting better at not needing him to be perfect all the time.”

“Neither of us is perfect,” I say. “But we’re perfect for each other.”

“Even with all the complications?” Dr. Ezra asks.

I look at Anna—my wife, my partner, the mother of mychild, the love of my life in all her complex, beautiful, sometimes impossible manifestations—and I don’t hesitate.